


I wish i could forget

by The_yeet_god



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Army Doctor John Watson, BAMF John Watson, Captain John Watson, Doctor John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Hurt John Watson, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John Watson in Afghanistan, M/M, Military John Watson, Multi, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, POV John Watson, Reunions, Scotland Yard, Secret Relationship, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sniper John Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_yeet_god/pseuds/The_yeet_god
Summary: sometimes you cant always bury secrets far below, sometimes they will come back even more knotted and complex than you once though
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. the return of a soldier

War took many casualties. He had seen it too many times, women, men, children, babies it didn’t matter for war took them all.

He had laughed at death but now death laughed at him, taunt him to come closer. Death always gave a fake sense of security, it acted as an escape route from the pain and misery and maybe if you closed your eyes it would get better. He knew what would happen if he closed his eye he would die or at least come close to it but he didn’t want to die on the fields of Afghanistan laying in his own blood, covered with others. 

He had treated the soldiers that had death knocking at their doorstep and they always said it was important to keep a hold of something you love whether it was a partner, a family member, a friend or something else. That how they had all pulled through because they fought for something that they loved. He had always found love to be one of the most powerful emotion maybe that why they say love prevails. 

And maybe today it did because suddenly he didn’t feel like dying because the thing he loved would destroy himself, he had already tried when he went missing so what would the man he loved do if he knew that his partner had died. that instead of coming home alive and smiling, he would be sent back in a coffin with nothing more than a dead soldier send off. 

But love cant win every time no matter how strong It may be. He broke the very promise that he swore never to break ‘don’t come back in a body bag’. Yet here he was lying on dirt, with a hole in his shoulder and a large cut down his leg. The pain was absolutely the worst part of it, it felt as if he was being burned by a large blowtorch. 

He was praying he would pass out faster, for the pain to stops, for the glare of the sun on his face to be replaced by darkness, for the voices floating around him to quiet down. it wasn’t until he was on the evac chopper that finally he felt himself slip and with what he thought would be his final breath ‘please god let me live’ and with that he slips. 

He would not wake up for another 3 weeks, the enteric fever Caused from the contaminated water he fell into was the leading contributor in this. Once he had woken up he honestly wished he hadn’t, it wasn’t the fact that his shoulder still hurt like a mother fucker but he had been informed that two careers he had loved so much were over. 

They army could not take back a broken doctor and the hospitals could not take a surgeon with a hand tremor. So, with one shot to the shoulder his life had practically been ruined, of course he could still be a doctor but there was no excitement about giving a middle age man a cold diagnosis and a prescription for some tablets. He was certainly better off than other, he had family and a home to go back too many did not. 

After he woke up, he was sent on a plane back to England although conscious he would not be able to recall it later on. Most of the rejected soldiers on the plane with him would be sent to public housing provided by the same people who gave up on many of them and other like him hoped that their family hadn’t given up on them, that they wouldn’t become like the rest of the forgotten soldier on the plane. 

Even though those on the plane would never be soldier once again they all wore their brave faces, lined up and walk in two perfect lines as if they were about to walk onto the sandy bases of Afghanistan. 

To say he was relieved when he saw the black car and the women leaning against it. He hadn’t been forgotten in the end, he wondered whether Mycroft and his handy services would show up. He was lucky he didn’t have to be stuck inside of a hospital in England. There was no more that a hospital could do for his wounds other than provide physiotherapy.

The only major thing he had left to do was visit Sherlock. He was scared because he knew Sherlock wouldn’t be very happy that he had come so close to dying, he knew Sherlock would deduce it straight away but he was so happy nine month without someone you love was worse than being shot. 

Baker street was the same as when he had left it, it always was when he came back from tour but yet he always expected it to be different somehow. Every time he came back from service Sherlock always picked him up and to say that he didn’t miss having him by his side was a total lie. 

Walking to the door made him more nervous than him invading Afghanistan. Would Sherlock even care, would he even be here. Knocking on the door sent waves of anxiety through his body and he was thankful that Mrs Hudson answered.

“hello Mrs. Hudson is Sherlock in” the question shocking her out of what ever trance she was encased in.

“John, love. I didn’t think you would be home for a couple of months now. Now dearie me what’s happened to that arms of yours. Come up stairs now and ill make you a nice cuppa” Mrs. Hudson spoke as she walked. It was already clear Sherlock wasn’t home other wise Mrs. Hudson would have call out from him. He was most likely chasing after a criminal or spouting off deduction to that Lestrade bloke. 

221B looked the same as ever. The constant mess, the skull, Sherlock violin and there chairs were sat around as if he had only been out for a few hours not nine months of active service. He sat his duffle bag down on the ground and took in the surroundings, the smell of the flat, the sounds of the busy street down below. It was if nothing had changed which in his eyes was good because he could begin to forget he had just been to the sandy plains of Afghanistan. 

He decided in the end after having a chat about his experiences and how he could never go back to the war to Mrs. Hudson, he would unpack his bag. Of course he couldn’t take much his uniforms, necessary toiletry, his passport and license, two books, small photos, other small essentials, he also had his combat knife, webbing, his patrol backpack, all the stuff that would have been stripped off him if it wasn’t for Mycroft meddling. 

With that all of his things were in there proper places, never to be touched again but rather to service as a trophy for all he had been through. At this point in time he heard foot steps most likely Mrs. Hudson bringing up some of the scones she said she was making 

“Mrs. Hudson are those the scone you said you were making” he yelled from the bedroom. No reply which was strange maybe she fell down or something. 

“Mrs. Hudson” he asked with a hint of concern and confusion lacing his voice. It wasn’t until he turned around that he realised what had happened.


	2. a soldiers grave

“oh! Hello Sherlock “ he didn’t know what else to say he had planned it out a little differently in his mind. He just had to wait for a response from Sherlock. He could see the cogs turn in his head, scanning john over and once he saw his arm in a sling and the cane in the other hand his face fell 

“ you got shot “ Sherlock stated, for a man with the brain capability of a living genius he was sometimes prone to stating the obvious, he though that he said it to confirm it to himself but he will never know. Many though that he had just broken an arm but the bandages and the pain just below his undershirt would tell a different story but this was Sherlock, the man could tell if someone had an affair by the state of their left cuff 

“ I have, got shot in the shoulder. The bullet shattered the bone in my shoulder and just missed a major artery, also suffer a big cut to my leg hence the cane” he lifts up the cane at the same time he says that “I gather you weren’t told” he look questionably at Sherlock who simply nodded back a no.   
“anyways told you I wouldn’t come back in a body bag. Oh, You’ll be happy to know I’ll never be going back, the army doesn’t need a broken soldier who cant hold a scalpel still. How about I make us some tea and we can catch up on those nine month we missed” with that he marched to the kitchen. Sometimes when he came back from deployment, he would make tea just to calm himself a little 

With a cup of tea in hand and his comfy chair they both began to prattle on about their nine months. Sherlock talked about all the cases he solved and how unbelievably stupid Scotland Yard was, and he talk about some of the operations he been sent on and some of the funny stories of him and his mates. Hours passed until they had nothing to talk about.

He was more than ready to slip into bed. To feel the comfort of a mattress not the back breaking ground and the softness of the sheet not the harsh texture of his sleep bag. This was the part he most liked, being able to experience the luxury that a bed offers after he had come back home. It was like absolute heaven. 

Of course he still woke up around 05:30, he have to thank the military for never being able to sleep in but getting up early gave many benefits, he was able to see the rise of the sun, hear the birds chirp before the real London traffic hit and most importantly make a cup of tea without Sherlock trying to do an experiment on it. 

For a man who despised sleep, Sherlock did take an awfully long time to get up. Normally he would go for a run keep his body in shape but with his blasted leg and his arm uselessly in a sling it would not be possible. So, he had to think of something else to do before the rest of London woke up. After a ten-minute heated debate in his head he settled on cleaning his pistol. It always gave him something to do while he was stuck sitting around on the army base.

He had not even realised that Sherlock had woken up until the man in question was asking for some tea which of course he went off to make. The last time he had said no to making Sherlock morning tea the kettle had been set on fire, how Sherlock managed to do that he will never know. 

The rest of the morning was relatively quiet and it had been his first morning without gun shots rattling off in the distance or the movement of others for nine months. He missed the war already, that he knew but he didn’t miss the noise that it brought, the sound of close approaching air support, the sound of gun fire hitting the metal, and dirt, the constant yelling of other desperate to be heard over the deafening noise. Of course, when you had been there as long as him you got used to but that didn’t mean that he liked it. 

Sherlock ended up being called up to inspect a murder although he could see the disappointment in Sherlock face when he realise he couldn’t take him to see it, Sherlock still bounded off happy to just not be bored. Which left John the question of what the hell can he do to keep himself from getting bored. He thought about calling up his army mates but there was only one or two of them that hadn’t been sent home in a casket or a hospital stretcher. Of course he could still have a pint with only one or two of them but it just wasn’t the same atmosphere when they were all there, so he left that idea. He ended on the idea of look around London seeing what had changed and what hadn’t 

He had spent hours just walking around seeing what restaurant stayed and which shops had died off, what building had been finish, what they had done to improve areas and what areas had fallen into disarray. It was as if he was 6 years old on a little field trip with his family and the most magical thing is how tall the skyscraper are. 

As the hours passed he ran out of thing to see and do. Only one thing remained and it was the hardest one. He wanted to visit the graves of his friends who had fallen. They all had promised each other that if any of them ended up six feet in the ground they would visit the grave and give them one finally send off but of course most of his friends were lying in the sterile white rooms unable to complete the promise. In the end he decided to do it himself 

Of course the walk to the cemetery was depressing but nothing could have prepared him for the wave of depression that hit when he walked throw the rows looking for the section that held his friends. He found all seven in the end, lined up next to each other just how they all wanted it. Best mates in life and best mates in death they had all joked about no matter where they were they would always be there for each other. In some way they had been, had all died in the same attack, shoulder to shoulder covered in each other blood. They had all gone through basic training together and had all died together. Even if they left the rest of the group they still all pretended that the dead seven as they had dubbed them were still with them 

I guess that what happens when someone you care for leave you, you just pretend that there and everything find when in reality all seven of them would never walk, laugh or smile and that fact hit harder than the silent gap they left. That pain that comes with missing someone never leave, the seven of them had been dead for nine month but it still felt like yesterday that he was forced to declare them all dead. 

He remembers them all so clearly. Jack Davies, he had been married and had a kid at home that he never got to meet. Roger Brown, he didn’t have anyone he always said he would find someone when he could get out of the blasted army, we all knew he didn’t want to leave. Ryan Parker, he was getting married after the tour was over. Victor Reed had a husband and two kids at home. Oliver Wilson, well he never found anyone. Noah Baker he only had his younger brother, he always said who would stop him from getting into trouble. Finally, Thomas Evens, he ended up getting a girlfriend. Just saying there names brings back memories of them laying in a lake of blood with lifeless eyes. 

With the send off he promised them all he was off. he knew that every time he had nothing to do in London he would find his way back to the seven graves. In the future he would go back to the graves with his friends behind him and they would all have a pint just like they did when they were all alive. The graves of others would always see six broken soldier on a mission, trudging through the rows of white stone no matter what temperature of weather it was outside. For the soldier laying in the graves were worthy of more than just a weak soldier send off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally i was going to have more to this chapter but i decided that i didn't want the chapters to be too long. this is more a filler chapter that will come in handy a little later on. next chapter will have more plot to it rather than background knowledge.   
> tell me what you think about it so far. if anyone has anything they would like to see incorporated just leave a comment and ill try to work it in. :)


	3. a study in pink

Months had passed since his discharge. He had gone to hell and back twice both in Afghanistan and in physiotherapy but if the army had taught him one thing is too never give up. He had managed to get sixty percent of the mobility in his arm back and was close to getting rid of that horrible cane. 

When people talk about physiotherapy, they seem to leave out that part were it can hurt like a mother fucker. Sometimes he thinks it hurts more than getting shot because its not just doing some exercises they give you and learning how to walk with those bar things. No, its also the painful poking, the bone cracking and the cold hands. 

Overall, he was as good as he was going to get in his arm and all he needed was to get rid of the cane which translated in Sherlock mind as I can now take him on a case. At least it would stop him from talking non-stop for hours afterwards. Don’t get him wrong he loved it when Sherlock talks about his cases but at a certain point it too much 

Sherlock had rejected a case about three suicides saying something about it being boring. One day he will give Sherlock a lecture about being a little tactful around these sorts of things. It wasn’t until there had been a fourth and a note left that Sherlock perked up a little. So off Sherlock went with him tailing more limping behind him. 

Sherlock left out one important detail when he talked about Scotland Yard. The constant abuse that seemed to come out of some of the detective’s mouths. He would have loved to put them in their places, but he had done that before which result in Sherlock getting mad at him and then sulking for the week while causing him some mild annoyance. There nothing fun about any of it, so he’ll gladly avoid that situation. 

One day when Sherlock not looking he will make sure that those detectives get a earful but it currently seem that he will have to do it to the whole of Scotland Yard except for Lestrade, he was a good bloke it was almost like he was the father figure in Sherlock life. there was always a silent air of concern or caring that seem to surround Lestrade words when he talked to Sherlock sometimes. 

Normally it would weird people partner out that another man acts like a parental figure but he had been away for long period of time over a twelve year span and knowing Sherlock that man can get into some trouble when he not being watched, in short Sherlock is a giant toddler. Gets bored easily, throws hissy fits, and need to be supervised.

It was great to be working side by side with Sherlock except for the times where he runs off having told no one where he is going but he always done that and you get used to it after a while. 

There were two things that weren’t great and they both seemed to connect to Scotland Yard. The constant abuse and the “drug busts” which were really them trying to get back the evidence Sherlock had taken. Why they just couldn’t call he didn’t know, he thinks that they just like to snoop into their private life. Donovan and Anderson seem to be the most interested in finding things to hold against Sherlock, he’s convinced that one day they will plant evidence just to frame Sherlock.

It didn’t matter because in the end Sherlock had just disappeared apparently into a taxi according to Mrs. Hudson. He had gotten sick of Sherlock random disappearing and ended up just putting a tracker on him. Yes it may sound a bit extra but after Sherlock decided that chasing after a very dangerous criminal who in the ended broke Sherlock foot was a good idea, he decided to put in something to follow him around. 

He was glad that Sherlock hadn’t ripped it out of the lining of his jack because he was able to track Sherlock to Roland Kerr Further Education College. He wasn’t going to charge in there are tell the cabbie to get down no. he had been taught in the military that if you can find a safer easier access point into a area than take that don’t just charge into a building expecting everyone to get down on the ground for you.

The Military training that had been ingrained into his mine still came in handy. Hand steady, deep breath, fire between the beats of your heart it had all been embedded in his brain since day one. a different weapon other than his pistol would come in handy but it not like he could exactly carry around a larger gun around London. 

1.2.3… pull and the cabbie was dead. No matter how many lives he took the surprise of someone heart just stopping because of him still sent a wave of adrenaline through him. People thought he was sick when they had found out he had no remorse for the people he killed but the army takes that emotion out of you when you join up. The army cant have a soldier who second guesses their actions

He knew Sherlock would figure that it was him that had shot the cabbie but he didn’t need Scotland Yard finding him around the crime scene with a pistol missing a bullet. Sherlock wouldn’t be impressed with him if he let that happened. So as quick as the gun fired he moved. 

In the end Sherlock had guessed as quickly as he predicted he would but Sherlock was used to have a body guard follow him around everywhere he goes and it wasn’t the first time he had done it and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

The Chinese they had afterwards was amazing and Sherlock had told him about his time with the cabbie not after he got a lecture from him about how stupid he was of course this is what happened every time Sherlock put himself in danger. It was sort of like a tradition at this point, Sherlock would do something that he deemed dangerous and then Sherlock would get a lecture afterwards. It was there own little way to say they cared about each other. 

The best part about that case wasn’t the thrill of killing a man but the thrill of realising that he could run and walk. No more stupid cane, no more feeling helpless and best of all he could start going on his morning runs again. That normally isn’t the immediate thing people want to do when they get rid of a walking cane but running and doing exercise gave him there own little thrill. It was different from a adrenaline thrill, it was the thrill of pushing his body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not the most exciting (or long) chapter but it ended up that way. Adding more to it would of completely ruined the flow of the chapter, so next chapter is where things start to unfold. if there anything you think i should improve on or add then tell me 
> 
> I know that in the books and the tv show that it says John had been with the army for only three years not twelve but it doesn't make sense. john was 36 in season one so he joined the military at 33 but seeing how much he loves the battle field it most plausible that he signed up at 18 but completed his five year degree under a program the military offers. then completed his training to become a surgeon while with the Army. he was most likely deployed at 23 got shot when he was 35 which leaves a 12 year gap.


	4. a soldiers secret

“we are totally stumped. This guy doesn’t exist, his face doesn’t match to anyone, everything about his identity is fake and to make it even more confusing the chemicals in his blood stream don’t match anything we have seen before” Lestrade really did look stumped. It was bad enough that this man didn’t exist but the chemicals running through their blood stream didn’t match to anything. 

“John, what do you think this is” sherlock points to a spots on the victims leg. The spot in particular had a burn mark which when he looked at it closer it turned more into a spot were a specific label had been branded into the victim skin with a hot stick. There was something more to this branding, he had seen it before. there was something else he needed to confirm before he maybe any judgement and that was a certain tattoo. 

Sitting on the victims left shoulder was what he was looking for. The dagger, the wings on each side of the dagger and the word ‘who dares wins’ taunted him. Just seeing it made his own burn like wild fire on his back. 

He had confirmed what he suspected. “Lestrade I can find out who this is” he stated coldly as he turned and grabbed his phone. The call was simply two words were all that were spoken he’s back. To other he looked a little insane. Who suddenly states the word I can find out who this guy is then call some rando and says he’s back. He knew he would have to explain it all but he liked being a little mysterious. 

It took them five minutes to show up. “you took your time didn’t you, where did that being early is being on time attitude go” one of the guys in the group spoke up “yeah well I did have to call these shit heads up and then get here so you can shut the fuck up” 

“ uh John you going to introduce us to your friends here” everyone looked a little confused when the other walked in. he could also see two constables panting near the door probably just from trying to stop the from entry the crime scene. 

“oh yes Sorry. This is Bill Murry, Oscar Robinson, Archie White, Luke Harris, and Alex Walker” he pointed to each when he said there names “my mates from the Army, they can help you out” as he said this he directed the group to the victim and pointed out the branding and the tattoo. Robinson let out a quiet oh shit. 

“Legson I need you to find out this real guy name and identity” the other snickered when they all heard him use the nickname they had all given Robinson. Robinson had ended up losing one leg so they all lovely thought they should poke a bit at him. All Robinson did was roll his eyes and get on with the job. Opening his computer and cracking on. 

“found him. Name is Captain David Wood’s, no family left. He been with the military for twelve years now, joined the SAS four years ago. He was also a part of operation ghost. You recon our boy Casper the not so friendly ghost is back” that the name they had all used because who the person who had killed the other completely disappeared. 

“is anyone going to tell us what in gods name your talking about” Lestrade looked between the group searching for answers and even glanced at Sherlock who simply shrugged back. 

“a few years ago, us and a couple other were sent out to complete operation the army nicknamed ghost. From what I can say some parts didn’t go as well as we thought and two of our men ended up dying. We hadn’t noticed until one of them was already dead and the other one was too late too save. After that people who had been on the operation started to disappear, we found out the brother of the two that had died wanted some sort of revenge on us for not saving their family members. They simply disappeared one day, no one could find anything about them.” John stated, in some way he understood why they would want their revenge, but it wasn’t right, he took other away from their families. 

“so how do you know that this is them” a question normally reserved for Sherlock was now directly pointed towards him. 

“when Casper went on his killing spree years ago he would always carve that pattern into them. I guess he’s upgraded from a knife to a hot stick. Oh we also call them Casper because they disappeared into thin air one day.” He thought the others would want to know why they call the killer Casper 

“legson who else was on operation Ghost” this way they could understand who the killer next target may be 

“captain David Wood’s who’s dead, Captain Angus Thomas he currently on leave, lieutenant James Hayes he on active duty, lieutenant Kurtis Fowler he left a few months ago, lieutenant Josh Hawkins he was sent home after injury. There were two Australian SAS corporal Eric Jones who was killed on active duty and Sergeant Wilson Taylor who currently living in Britain. Then there was us. So in short there ten targets including us” Robinson answer 

“hang on why would you guys be on the operation I mean you guys surely aren’t SAS, I mean John just a doctor and aren’t the SAS meant to be the best so how come most of you seem to be injured” she pointed to Robinson Leg and then too Harris’s face which was half burnt, she also both glanced at John shoulder and walker arm which was replaced by prosthetic. The room fell silence, shock and anger swirled around. Some officer looked like there jaw would fall off if their mouth got any wider and him, Sherlock, and his mates all had a look like they wanted to dismember her

it was Walker who spoke first“As a police officer you should know a thing or two about respect and how to conduct yourself but it seem to me that you are lacking that. That is the most disrespectful thing I think I have ever had the misfortune of hearing. We go through living hell just to make sure you can still safely go to bed not worrying about whether you would be murdered tomorrow. Us” walker pointed to him and the other “we went into the middle of war and fought the bloodiest battle since world war two. I got my arm blown up by a bomb trying to save a four year old boy, Robinson lost his leg fighting for the lives of a helpless family and John almost lost his arm and his life trying to save a young girl who had her lower body obliterated. We went their and actually saved lives, what are you doing Sally Donovan because all I see is a young girl sitting there thinking bullying makes her powerful.” He went to turn but faced her one last time “oh and if I ever hear you talk shit about any of them, I will personally make your life a living hell. is that understood” a small mummer came from sally mouth “I said Sally Donovan is that understood!” Walker spat at her with force the second time which earned a clearer response 

There was nothing left for him to do, so he ended up at the pub with his mates, Sherlock and Lestrade. They had sat in silence for a few minutes just sipping their drinks until Lestrade spoke up. “so, you guys were actually SAS, I don’t know much about them but from what I heard that one bloody big achievement” 

“yeah we all were. Six years of that fucking madness. We all have proof of what being apart of the SAS can mean” as White spoke he knew what he meant. The injuries whether they were the visible ones or the ones that sat in the darkness. “it was good for the times we were there but its war and shit happens and here we all are drinking pints at a bar instead of running across Afghanistan” as White spoke the other five men all understood what he was saying. They all missed it, the war, the fighting, the danger. 

“if you don’t mind me asking but what happened, I mean… you don’t have-to…ah answer it” he knew Lestrade just wanted to know but I wasn’t the nicest to talk about it but they all pressed on. 

“I lost my leg while trying to stop insurgents from killing a man because they wanted to take away his wife and kids and rape them, probably torture them after that. I couldn’t just stand there while it was happening so I went in. after saving the family I went after the insurgents but they had put down a trip wire bomb, it blow my leg right off” Robinson spoke with this proud sadness, he had saved a family from the horror of what could have happened but lost a career 

“there was this four year old boy just standing helplessly next to his dead mother and brother. He didn’t know what to do so he did what any kid would do and waited there for someone to collect him. I went to grab him but at the same time a grenade went off, mangled my whole arm. There was no hope of saving it so they just cut it clean off” when walker spoke Harris passed something to him and Walker nodded.

“Harris here got the worse Immediate injuries. IED went off near him lost the hearing in one ear although that wasn’t uncommon it was the fact that it had basically destroyed half his face. 3rd degree burns right across his left side of his face and a hole in his check destroyed some of his mouth. That why he doesn’t talk, because he simply cant. Oh god when we got to him it was horrific” the horror of the event coming back to all of their minds. Seeing the body just laying there the hole in his face and the fresh burns. It made him want to throw up every time he thought of it. 

“I saw a girl just laying there her lower body was completely mangled, bones sticking out, raw muscle visible. She was still alive, begging to die. I did the best I could to save her or ease the pain but it a war zone and before I knew it I was lying in a cold stream of water and my blood. A shot to the shoulder and I’m not even sure what hit my leg. I got a nasty infection from something in the water and I was on the verge of life and death for three weeks” when ever he thought of it, he always thought of Sherlock what that brilliant mind would do to itself if he had actually died. 

“no one ever told me that you were about to die for three week. Why didn’t I know” he had forgotten he didn’t tell Sherlock because telling him would make the memories seem more real in some way. That if he confirmed that Sherlock worst fear had almost come true that it would determine whether it had actually happened or if it was just a bad dream.

“your brother” although he would never admit it too Sherlock that it had actually been his own order not to tell the other man, he was still telling the truth. Mycroft had been apart of it, he always was. What ever concerned Sherlock or him, you could guarantee that Mycroft would try and stick his fat ass into it. 

He could hear Sherlock utter fat bastard under his breath and he chuckled a little bit. 

“no one really clear on what happened to me. One minute I was a perfectly function soldier and then the next on the ground with a head wound. The head wound effected my Manual Dexterity and fine motor skills. I couldn’t be anything more than a office worker after that, its got better but sometimes it really hard you know” as Murry said that last line they all nodded a yes, they all had those days.

It was a few moments before anyone spoke. The darkness of the last conversation lapping over them. After a few sips the talking return to thing you would expect at a pub, the latest cricket and ruby match. What they were doing these day but once again the conversation took a dark turn. 

Harris slips a piece of paper over to walker and as his eyes scanned across the words Walker face fell “what did Two face say” he asked. The reason they called Harris two face was because his burns all reminded them of the villain Two face. 

“he says it’s the 22nd next week” and their faces all fell. They all knew what those exact words mean 

“what so special about the 22nd” Sherlock asked and all six men looked at him with sadden eyes 

“ it’s the anniversary of that base attack I told you about” Sherlock face confirm that he didn’t know what he was talking about, probably deleted it “well a couple of years back, insurgents attacked a base in hopes of slowing our force which were quickly approaching their base. They drops heavy air support on it and then a bunch of them ran into the base and slaughtered the men like animals” he answered honestly but left out why it was such a big deal and hoped Sherlock didn’t asked 

“so why is it so special, there been other bases attack while you were deployed unless someone died that you all knew. Oh! Is that why you visit that cemetery sometimes” sherlock said the last part with the excitement of a kid on Christmas morning. “a bit not good?” he was trying to train Sherlock to recognise times when he didn’t get it right. All he could do was nod 

“ yeah seven friends. They all died together in each other’s bloods. Slaughtered like they were nothing more than pigs at a slaughter house. We all got back at different times, some of us from patrol, some from missions we had just completed. That why we hadn’t been killed but those seven. God they would have been all here with us if they hadn’t cut down the number of patrol or send all the people with the skills to stop a air attack away because they were either needed somewhere else or had been away on a mission. Stupid fucking army” at this point Sherlock had slowly taken John hand under the table they were sitting at “they didn’t even care afterwards. So every 22nd of April we go out in honour of them.” That thick layer of depression rolled over them again. 

Lestrade hadn’t said anything finding his drink more interesting than the guys faces. Everyone face was hung with a never ending sadness in their eyes but it was Whites face that made his stomach turn. The poor bastard had not only lost seven friends but his long time boyfriend, Roger Brown. He had planned on proposing to him when they both got sent home next but it never happened because when White arrived back from patrol with him. he was greeted with the sight of the person he loved covered in drying blood, and a clean hole right between his eyes. He had never seen the guy get upset and he wish he never had. The scream of horror, the hot tears that freely rolled down his checks and the broken sobs that wracked his body made something in John want to die. He ended up holding Brown close to him, telling his live less body not to be dead. It was the most heart breaking thing he ever watched. 

White had to be pinned back so they could take Browns body. he was told to get his friend under control but how could he, he knew he would do the same thing if that had been Sherlock body. They used to call White Salt and Brown Pepper because of their surname and they would always be together no matter what but now non of them could even look at salt let along call their friend it. 

They all decide they should head home. Most said It had been along day but they all knew it was the emotion that the memories of their dead friends brought that had sent them all home. 

“Sherlock I really need to teach you how to be more tactful in those situations. You do realise what you did wrong right?” they did this every time. Whenever Sherlock did something that wasn’t quite okay, he always made sure Sherlock understood why it wasn’t okay. 

“was it because I sounded excited. I saw I did not mean anything along those line. I just... ah- you know” it was obvious that he was trying, and he sat Sherlock down on the couch and took his hand 

“yeah when you talk about thing like that you should try to sound... ah what the right word, well doesn’t matter just you shouldn’t be excited. Especially since white’s boyfriend died in that attack. I'm sure you know what it would feel like to lose someone even if it was only a possibility. So just try to be more careful next.” He paused for a second “Alrighty I’m going to sleep, I’ve had a big day. Are you going to be joining me?” 

“yes in a second. I have to write down some results from an experiment down first” all john could do was sigh he knew he should make Sherlock get some sleep but he was too tied to even bother at a attempted

“okay goodnight Sherlock, love you” the last part being so subconscious that he didn’t even need to think before saying it. Years had pasted since he had to think about saying it to Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was a bit longer but im happy that im able to start writing more of the exciting stuff.   
> thinking about adding more of john and Sherlock relationship into the story and having a good go at explore that.   
> hope you all enjoyed it and if there anything you would like me to add or any improvement please do tell me.   
> :)


	5. Credenhill

Another day, another murder. Today it was lieutenant Kurtis Fowler. Same mystery chemicals in his body, same burnt mark and the same tattoo. 

“I’m still confused why they both have the same tattoo” Lestrade said while leaning back against a wall watching Sherlock, who was examining the body 

“when we were doing that operation, something happened that shook us all to the core, I mean we were trained for nothing to shake us. After it we decided we would all get the SAS insignia as a reminder of what our core values were.” He was not going to tell Lestrade or anyone what actually happened that shook them so much that they wanted to forever remember what they stood for. 

“so, you have one?” he could see the curiosity in Lestrade eyes. 

“yeah its on my back near the shoulder. You got any tattoos” he knew that a murder scene really wasn’t the right spot but there nothing they could do while Sherlock tried to find something that might be helpful.

“nah, I never really wanted a tattoo now I think about it. You got anymore other than that one” 

“no, I was never really into tattoos either, but I thought I would make an exception for the one I have” as he talked about his own tattoos, he could feel it burn. It wasn’t actually burning but thinking about brings this little phantom pain from when he first got it 

“you got anything for us Sherlock” while Lestrade asked they both subconsciously moved closer to the body. there was nothing gruesome about it from the outside, no blood, no missing limbs or holes in bodies. It was if the victim was taking a nap, the whole scene of it was peaceful really. He was so used to the blood and the violence that his past and present gave him. that even though this guy who he knew was dead and he should be concern on not being the next target, he found a calmness.   
“nothing!” as Sherlock said this he through his hands in the air and stood up “although it seems to be that this criminal isn’t as much of an idiot than I once thought. Its amazing maybe some of the other low life around London would take a note out of this guy’s book. I mean John just look at how clean these incisions are. Either they are a trained medical professional, or they have practised a lot. Ill say more the first one” 

“yeah they just completed their medical degree when I saw them last, but I think I remember being told they became a surgeon or something along those lines. I guess it explains why its so clean.” He examined the small needle holes around the guy neck and arm. 

“wait hang on you know who the murder is. Bloody hell John you could have provided that information beforehand” Lestrade face grew with angry when he said the last bit. It wasn’t as if he didn’t mention, well he sort of mentioned it. 

“I told you guys I sort of know who the killer is.” Sherlock made a face that he had learnt meant press on “well his name is Zelene Tucker. He was a medical officer or something along those lines in the army for a couple of years but when his two bother Jonathon and Samuel died, he went insane. Killed three British SAS soldier and the two New Zealand SAS soldier. He just disappeared after that. I knew his two brothers, so I only met him a couple of times, though they talked about him a bit.” Something in Sherlock clicked 

“you know what he looks like John” he simply nodded at Sherlock “brilliant! Lestrade get me all the files on people who started working at St Bart's about nine months ago. More specifically surgeons, or anyone who would have access to a broad range of chemicals without anyone thinking somethings off.” With that he turned around and left leaving both himself and Lestrade confused why he wanted these. They never got the chance to ask because Sherlock disappeared off onto the streets

Surprisingly, Sherlock waited on the street below for him. Although they had known each other for a while, he still had the tendency to run off with out him even if they were just going home. 

As they made it inside of 221B John went to the couch and sat down with Sherlock following. Sometimes it annoyed him that Sherlock thought that when he sat down it was an invitation just to sit on him, but he could never stay mad. 

“so are you going to tell me why you asked Lestrade for those files” he bows down his head a little to get a better look at Sherlock who had his eyes closed. 

“well our killer must have access to chemicals but he doesn’t seem to be dumb enough to break into somewhere, so either he works at a hospital or a chemical facility but you said he was a doctor with the army so he most likely work in a hospital. The next question was which hospital. He would most likely want to keep tabs on the people he planning to murder, the easiest way to keep tabs on you would be to work at St Barts because your there a bit plus he could be hidden under surgical gear so you don’t recognise them but no one would ask questions.” As Sherlock finished his explanation he opened his eyes and looked up to John. He did it every time, he wasn’t sure why, but it was a little tradition at this point.

“you never fail to amaze me Lockie” he only reserved calling Sherlock that when they were in private. All though it was a little cringy, it held a strong sentimental value. He had used it when they were little kids because he couldn’t pronounce Sherlock, it sticked and it became his little nickname. It funny how one thing happens when your little and suddenly it becomes a part of you. 

They just sort of sat there. Letting the calmness wash over them. It wasn’t many times they got a moment of peace between the cases, keeping up to date with his friends and what ever else Sherlock drags him too. So, he relished moments like this 

It wasn’t long before the peace was destroyed by the vibration of a text. It was sent by Lestrade. You wont believe it but there be another one. God forbid if he could get a moment to themselves. 

It was Captain Angus Thomas this time. How long would it be before it was him or his friends were the target. Maybe he should have started worry when Fowler's body showed up. 

“I’m going to put the other guys and you on a surveillance watch. Cant have anymore bodies showing up” just as Lestrade was about to call in to a watch going on him and the other, he piped up “don’t worry about it Lestrade I’ve got better stuff” Lestrade and Sherlock turn to him both with puzzled looks “the army doesn’t pay for nothing, trust me the stuff we used to get issued seven years ago was better than what you guys have these days” Sherlock had a little smug smile when he heard him say the last part which Lestrade didn’t see, thankfully. 

“fine as long as you show me it before you set it up” with that Lestrade went to go talk to some other officers. “no, you will not being using the stuff afterwards to try and spy on your brother, although awfully fun and a bit of pay back. I have to take it back.” Sherlock pouted at that “how did you even know” 

“I’ve known you for how long you idiot. Come on lets go home I’ve gotta organise the surveillance gear” with that he turned and Sherlock followed. 

As soon as he got home, he made sure to fill the other on what happened. The death, Lestrade plan, and the time to meet him to get the gear. He maybe should of told the base at Credenhill but there was nothing better than turning up to army base, flashing a ID card and seeing the look on people faces. 

He was having an inner debate whether he should bring Lestrade along, it would be easier to fit all of the stuff in his car and it would be more explainable if they were to get pulled over on the side of the road. Ah yes sorry officer ignore, the large amount of suspicious gear in the back, that would be hard one even with the army ID

In the end he decided that it would be best to let Lestrade tag along if he could, would save them from explaining how all the equipment worked instead he could just listen to the boring surveillance guy talking about it. Probably satisfy Lestrade too. Killing all the birds with one stone. 

“how would feel about driving up about three hours to Credenhill and helping us get the surveillance stuff we need…. What no we don’t need your police siren to get there quicker we just need the shit ton of space in your car…. We get all the stuff at the army base up there…. Your going to have to meet us here at 8 tomorrow…. Yes us, the guys are coming and so is Sherlock unfortunately god knows what he going to do on an army base…. Hahah yes I’ll have to get him a leash or something, make sure he doesn’t run off…. That should be all, I’ll see you here bright and early Greg” he was happy that was done now he could get a cup of tea and hopefully relax for once.

“you know I’m not that bad on a army base John” all he could do was shake his head remembering the time he almost got arrested for snooping around the chemical lab once and the only reason he hadn’t gotten his ass handed to by some cranky old officer was because he had to come in and rescue his sorry ass. He didn’t say anything, no that would put Sherlock in a sulk all night and that was just unpleasant. 

He was looking forwards to the day tomorrow. The most entertaining thing him and the guys got to do was show up at a base, walk around and people think you are god. which sound like a weird thing to enjoy but a ego boost never really hurt anyone 

When people heard that they were coming oh boy was it entertaining watching them realise that even though they were Britain elite military there were people better than them, was a dirty pleasure.

You could tell who was new because of their confused faces, they had no idea why everyone was ‘scared’ of them. They picked on the new guys the most just so the tradition could continue. 

Eight o’clock and they were already to go. Sherlock managed to get a car from Mycroft which meant that it was him, Sherlock, Murray and Walker in the bigger car. Robinson, white and Harris in the other car and Lestrade by himself in the police car. He couldn’t wait for the three-hour drive. Couldn’t the army put their base a bit closer to London. 

The three-hour drive passed surprising quickly with funny stories, embarrassing moments and the stupid shit they had done since adjusting to civie life. It was when they could see the Army base that he pulled out a face mask and so did the other. Sherlock looked at him weirdly. “security reasons” was the only answer he gave Sherlock. 

Rolling up to the entrance he began to get his ID out as he prepared to give it to the guard at the boom gate. The guard looked a little suspicious at the vehicle, but I guess that’s his job. As he rolled down the window the guard looked him up and down as far as he could, see the uniform he slightly relaxed. They had all decided to wear the uniform, you can’t be on an army base, doing army stuff without looking the part. 

“ID please” as soon as the guard said that they handed it over. He looked at it, frowned and then typed something. “this isn’t possible, sir everyone knows that the people who these ID belongs aren’t alive” john did his best I’m offended looked then turn to Murray and Walker “you guys should have told me we were dead” he turned back to the guard. “would it help if I took this off” he pointed to his face mask. the guard nodded and they all took it off. The guy looked like he was going to die. 

“it seems to all match up. Sorry for the wait Sir, would you like me to radio to the commanders that you guys are here” the guard looked nervous, funny how a title can have that effect on someone 

he thought for a moment before he spoke “no want it to be a surprise. Oh and those two cars” he points behind him “let them in no issue, got me” the guard just nodded went back into the both to open the boom gate and them in “the fun begins boys” he turns around to face Murray and Walker grinning and pulls up the face mask, the other two do the same. Sherlock just sits there in silent perplexation he has a feeling there will be a lot of that later. 

After they park the cars in the carpark, they all got together and formed an arrowhead line, made them seem cooler than they were. Meanwhile Lestrade and Sherlock trailed along like lost puppies. He felt sorry for them, well not really it was absolutely hilarious, he would have burst out laughing if he weren’t on a mission. 

They made almost made it to the building that they needed to go until five men stopped them “halt civilian can’t be here unless they have special permission. Even though you are with these guys who need to remove their masks which is a rule they should know, you cant be here. So, if you got that special permission than I’ve gotta see.” John looked around to his mates and they busted out laughing. The five men looked like a cocktail of pissed, annoyed and mostly pissed “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you will treat us with the respect we deserve, is that understood. Just because you lot are SAS doesn’t mean you can start to disrespect people” now it was there turn to be pissed and annoyed. “umm Mack I don’t think this is-“the person who just talked was cut off by he guessed this Mack bloke.

“I would listen to that guy right there because I think he has the right idea if you want to keep breathing” the four men scowled and the one man who seemed to be the only person with half a brain. “yeah Mack these guys are the real shit. Like we look like fucking peasant compared to these guys. Seriously think we should back off; you know mind our own mother fucking business” the guy who he guessed was Mack cocked his head “who are you guys anyway huh because you don’t look like much. Three of you aren’t exactly what I can military material. What would they want with you lot of sad sods”? 

He stuck his arms out to signal for no one to move and he stepped forwards “ghosts “ with the single words four of the men freeze but the other block that he had now confirmed was Mack because of his name tag sown on his uniform had some balls. “never heard of the word I guess, your friends have and I recommend you take a fucking big page out of their books and fucking piss off and as your mate said early mind your own fucking business because let me tell you once this goes around the base your going to get into more shit than I gave you from your fellows soldiers.” With that dressing down he turned, and the others followed. 

“what the fuck was that John” Lestrade who had watched the whole thing with his mouth wide open had finally ask which he knew he would. “some people need to be put into their place. No room for disrespect in the army especially the special forces” that was all Lestrade was getting. The real story was a lot longer and complexed and riddled with secrets not even Mycroft knew. 

They walked through the building with ease. It was still the same layout as they the last time they were here. God something really didn’t change. And they approached the door they were looking for the poor secretary did try to stop them, but they paid no mind to her and continued. Once at the door they didn’t even bother to knock, and they charged in there. 

“what in gods name.” well that unfortunate the colonel had guest over. Before his guest got to speak the colonel lucky got a word in before. “boys I never though I would lay my eyes on your fucking troublesome arse. Let me guess your not hear to drop by and say hello” he eyed them carefully then over to his guest before realising “lieutenant-colonel Johnson this is ghost. Ghost meet lieutenant colonel Johnson. Are you not going to introduce us to your two friends back there” the colonel pointed to Sherlock and Lestrade 

“colonel this is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes” the colonel looked them both up and down from his desk.  
“a Holmes. I do hope your not here to spy on me for your brother. He has tried to get his hands on this” Sherlock actually snorted 

“I assure you Sir nothing displeases me more than my brother” the colonel seemed satisfied with that answer and leaned back into his chair

“so, what are you actually here for because knowing you six it nothing something I’m going to like but I guess that in your job description. You need something don’t you. Look I already let you keep your weapons and uniform” before the colonel could finish Murray butted in with a quiet we are technically still apart of the army, the colonel simply waved his arms before continuing “so what you need better have a good explanation attached to it” 

“you remember the murderer that we were tasked to bring in”

“yes, what about them Watson” 

“well before you get your nicker in a twist let me finish all of this. The killer came back and now he is targeting the rest of the guys” he held his hand up to silence the colonel “it was our task to bring him in before so just let us do it again. We are working the police currently all we need is some of the surveillance gear you have hidden around here.” 

“you didn’t think of telling me this before Watson! You may be ghosts, you may be the best of the best, and you may be a higher rank than most here but that does not mean you can keep this shit from me. He already killed if you have come for help. this may be the biggest fuck up since operation desert hill” all the colonel did was sit in his seat and think for a moment. No one dared speak. “look fine, you started this fucking shit you end it. You understand, this ends here” 

The Colonel got up from his seat and headed for the door, everyone parted like the red sea when he came remotely close to them. Even sherlock had the common sense to part for him. After him was Johnson then the eight of them. 

“Jesus Christ you six when we get back to Scotland Yard I demand a really good explanation as to what the ever loving fuck this is and if you don’t tell me than I will hand cuff you all to a chair and make you stay there until you tell me something” Lestrade could be slightly threatening when he wanted to be but he had dealt with much more creative threats than that so it really didn’t bother him but he still gave him a understanding nod 

Word must have gone around base because there a silence crowd follow them. The ones he recognised from previous years in the army looked on in shock. That sort of happens when you return back from the ‘dead’. Well he never really died but that what the rumour said when they disappeared for the amount of time it took everyone to realise these guys are never coming back. 

he guessed they were sort of SAS legends. Every regiment or corp had there own legend in some way, the SAS one was them. Six guys who could literally walk through wall, one of the reasons they got their name. when new SAS guys came through, they would always get told about the ghost, six men who walked among death as if it was an old friend. He hoped the legends continued even after their disappearance; it was a good Ego boost.

It seemed that the legends had been passed down because from what he could tell all the fresh meat were looking at them like they were Jesus fucking Christ although last time he checked he couldn’t walk on water. He even heard quiet mummer of holy shit they are actually real; I didn’t think they were. 

Once they made it to the quartermaster, they were given all the surveillance equipment. once they got it, they were shown through it. Although they were all trained in basic surveillance with Robinson their expert in the matter, but the army had phased out some of the old equipment they were used to. Plus, Lestrade wanted to be run down on what it all did. 

“this should do it, thanks I guess we will have to get out of your hair now” 

“Watson. Say out of trouble” 

“you know we cant do that Sir. That’s why you made us ghosts”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it took so long to get this chapter out, it was originally 9000 words long i ended up splitting the chapter and getting rid of some idea's that didn't work. 
> 
> i would also like to thank the people who have been leaving kudos, leaving comment etc. they are all greatly appreciated and help me to stay motivated. if you have anything you want to see or you want to tell me something i could improve on just let me know. 
> 
> I've also been debating with myself about writing some stories based on John experience with the army. i mention operation desert hill in this one and i believe operation ghost in another chapter, would anyone be interested in reading a story about those? if so just leave a comment 
> 
> that's all for now. have a lovely day and stay safe :)


End file.
